The Offer

And I can’t lie.

I sigh, slowly, softly. “Yes. I love him.”

Just saying those words makes my heart seem to exhale.

“Good,” Steph says, smiling smugly to herself.

“Good?” My eyes nearly bug out. “Why is that good? It’s bad. It’s terrible. I don’t want to love him. I want to be free of all that and move on.”

She wags her brows at me, that stupid smirk still on her face. “Love is good, my friend, love is good.”

“What is wrong with you?” I punch her lightly on the arm. “Why did you ask me that?”

She takes a long swig of her beer and says, “Do you know what the worst way to start a sentence is?”

“I farted!” Ava yells with a big smile. “That’s the worst way.”

Steph nods her approval at Ava and then looks back to me. “Do you know what the second worst way is?”

“What?”

“Please don’t hate me,” she answers and for a moment her smile fades and she flinches, as if I’m about to punch her in the face next. “And seriously, Nicola, please don’t hate me.”

She looks over at the door to the Lion and my eyes follow. There, outside in the sunshine, is the familiar silhouette of a man. He opens the door and steps inside.

I feel like I’m sinking and rising at the same time.

I feel like I definitely hate Stephanie right now.

It’s Bram and he’s walking toward us and I’m gripping the edge of the table so hard, I may actually break it in two.

She leans into me, whispers in my ear, “I’m sorry. He had to see you and I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t meet with him.” Then she quickly gets out of the booth, exchanges a quick look with Bram as she walks past him and out the door.

“Nicola,” Bram says, his throaty accent jarring me to the core. He stands in a sharp navy suit just a few feet away from the table, hands at his side. His face, that beautiful, handsome face, is the most serious I’ve ever seen on him.

“Bram?” Ava says softly and I look to her, her eyes wide with wonderment. “Bram?” she repeats louder.

“Hey, little one,” he says, gri

But Ava doesn’t care. She runs to the end of the booth and practically throws herself at him. He envelopes her into a big hug, picking her up off the ground and I’m torn between being angry and wanting to break down and cry. There are too many big things inside me, vying for me to make a choice, to pay them all attention and in the end I’m just a giant mess.

Bram carefully places her back on the ground but Ava keeps jumping around, going crazy. She’s smiling so big, her eyes are so wide, her breath so sharp and shallow.

Her breath shouldn’t be like that.

While Bram is now staring at me, I’m staring at Ava in concern, watching her carefully, trying to listen.

“Bram-a-lama…” she starts to sing but she stops and tries to take a deep breath. Her face is going white before my eyes and she rocks on her feet back and forth.

“Oh, shit,” I cry out, getting out of the booth just as she tips toward the ground. Bram is there, catching her in time and I fall down to my knees beside her as he holds her up.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

I grab her hand and squeeze it. It’s clammy. Her eyes are unfocused, glazed, and that familiar fruit odor permeates from her breath.

“Oh, fuck, no not now,” I say as she starts to lose consciousness right there in front of me. “Ava!” I yell at her and her eyes briefly flutter open before closing.

Bram gingerly lowers her to the ground while I crawl over her, tapping on her face. He brings out his phone. “I’m calling the ambulance.” I hear him place the call and I’m not about to argue over this one.

“I think it’s DKA. Diabetic shock.”

“That same thing she had before?” he asks, voice high.

I nod and then he relays the information to the agent. Ava’s been great lately, so good. The diet, the readings, everything has been working out well. But the last time she got like this was when Bram left and now that he’s here, the emotions are just too much.

“I think it can be brought on by stress and emotional upheaval,” I tell him without looking at him. I’m trying my hardest to keep her awake and keep myself calm. I’ve learned a lot. I can do this. I can get her through this.

But I can’t do it alone right now. I finally meet Bram’s eyes and see that he looks on the verge of breaking himself. “I need you to get my bag, the large purple one in the booth, and bring it here,” I tell him.

He nods and swiftly does as I ask. Now people are gathered around us and James is asking if I need anything and I don’t know what to say, I just know what to do. I inject her with the insulin, right into her stomach and she doesn’t even flinch.

“That will work, right?” he asks me.

“I hope so,” I tell him, not wanting to think about what would happen if it didn’t. The last time, she didn’t lose consciousness she didn’t have that fruit breath. Last time the shot brought her around but this time…this time I’m so afraid it won’t.

Thankfully it’s not long before the ambulance roars up to the doors, even though to me it felt like hours, and they get Ava on a stretcher and into the ambulance. The EMTs are asking me questions and I’m rattling off everything about her disease and our routine, like it’s textbook formula.

But when I try to make my way into the back of the ambulance, they tell me I can’t be there with her. It’s then that I break down, that I lose it. That I scream and I cry, while they tell me it’s their policy not to when the sirens are going.

Bram holds me back, his hands on both my arms, keeping me from lashing out at them in anger. I feel crazed and feral, the worry and panic and unfairness of it all ripping me at the seams. Finally, the ambulance pulls away and I feel like all my hope goes with it.

I lean into Bram and try to catch my breath, to gain back my control. I wish he wasn’t the one holding me and at the same time I’m glad he’s here.

The only person who really seemed to care about the both of us so much.

You were a charity case, a wicked voice says to me inside my head and I ignore it because what had happened between us has no bearing now, not while my baby girl is on the verge of dying. Nothing else matters anymore.

Bram puts me in his car and then we speed off after the ambulance and to the hospital, the same one as last time. With any luck, I’ll have the same doctor and that thought, this little bit of familiarity, brings me a tiny shred of calm.

This time there is no waiting in the emergency room. Bram and I are ushered down the hall toward the room Ava is in, and when a nurse asks if we are her parents, I feel myself nodding. Bram seemed ready to leave but the truth is too sticky to explain and at this moment I need someone like him here to hold my own hand when I need to be holding Ava’s.

It’s the same doctor as before but the news isn’t the same. He says her insulin levels are so off the charts that it’s becoming difficult to keep them where they need to be. His words dig deep and now I’m really afraid there won’t be a happy ending. There will be no out. It will be one of those ironic ones, the type in a film noir where the mother loses the daughter but gains a husband. But the loss she feels is one that can never, ever, ever be replaced.

The doctor wants privacy and has brought in someone else, so Bram and I wait out in the hall, stuck in uncomfortable chairs and I’m rocking in it back and forth, my brain wanting to latch onto the horrid impossible. I keep imagining what it would feel like if they came out with bad news and it’s akin to free-falling into Hell. It’s so brutal and unbearable that I get dizzy even thinking about it.